


Let the Devil in

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Eddie is not a happy bunny, I can't believe that's not a popular tag yet, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magic and Science, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-27 06:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Remnants - demons beyond human capacity. They control, not only magic, but reality itself. They are few, compared to the infinity, but they are powerful.Eddie's about to meet one.





	1. What an arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I don't know what I'm doing I just watched the movie again and listened to the soundtrack on repeat about ten or fifteen times.

Ven is quite tired. It’s just got back from a planet where it was summoned to eat a family of high-ranking warriors, which took a while, since that species communicates through loud, high-pitched sounds, which of course hurt Ven badly. It wants to rest in the Ether, regain its strength. It wants to eat something nutritious, avoid its children, and have a good nap.

But it can’t. Because almost as soon as it settles into its home-pocket universe with relief, it feels a tug; a fierce, sharp pain, that only comes from being summoned by humans.

Ven undulates angrily, snatches a star and crunches it down, then lets the tug pull it through planes and universes and theoretical possibilities into the universe where humans live. It hates it here. Human magic _hurts_ , and since none of the other species in their galaxy have a need for beings like Ven, there’s no reason to ever go to this part of this universe. An ugly place, full of trash and dying stars. Ven mutters savagely to itself, as it slides through wormholes to traverse the infinity and pop up in the summoning circle.

But instead of its usual form on this planet, a cloud of absolute night scattered with the remnants of the stars it has eaten, it’s… just goop. Startled, Ven raises the edges of its mass and reaches out to touch the edges of the circle. Why is it so goopy? This isn’t like any form it has ever had before.

As usual, the oxygen stings, but strangely there isn’t very much of it in the circle. It has no eyes, but it can see the chamber just fine.

The summoning circle is silver, inlaid in the concrete slab that is the floor. There are no breaks, seams, or improper characters. Of course there wouldn’t be, this is a professional outfit. There are glass and metal walls, keeping the humans away from the circle. The humans outside the walls are all wearing lab coats. Ven’s mass gathers quickly, pulling away from the edges. Lab coats mean science, and science means trouble.

An intercom clicks on. “Hello, demon,” says a calm voice, with a slight rasp but still clear. Ven looks around, and spots the human closest to the wall, a hand raised presumably to the button that controls the intercom. They are a he, and he is smiling slightly, his gaze admiring. Ven tries to speak, and finds it can’t.

This fills it with cold dread.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” the human continues, “But I need your assistance. As such, you will not be allowed to leave this facility until I say you can.”

Oh. The usual scientific asshole, trying to take Ven apart and learn the secrets of the universe. What does he want, Ven wonders with idle spite. The edges of the world? The ability to traverse the many planes of existence? The shapeshifting and manipulation of atoms to change mass?

He will be disappointed, because Ven itself doesn’t know how these things work. It knows everything that its kin know, and none of them understand themselves. The knowledge is not forbidden; it’s just that none of them care. Magic is magic. Who cares where the beginning and the end of it are?

Humans do. Humans always want to know.

Before Ven can try to speak again, something fills the silver of the circle, something that sparks and jumps, and then the sounds begin.

Ven has no opening through which to send its own sounds, so it roils in agitation, panic filling it, as the sounds rise in frequency. It draws itself tight into the middle of the circle and wonders wildly if the tales are true. Can it become a black hole? Can it devour this planet and be free of all pain, forever? Can it take these monsters into its maw and cut off their evil magic?

The frequencies peak, and Ven explodes upwards, splashing on the metal ceiling and circling the invisible walls of the spell frantically, searching desperately for an exit—there is none, and it vibrates in pain and fear, creating heat against the spell, as it coagulates and slams against the walls and drips and tries so hard to escape the pain, contorting into fantastic shapes in a useless attempt to lessen the agony.

The noises stop, and Ven collapses into a puddle, shivering. This eternal agony had only lasted two Earth-seconds. It raises a clump of matter on some wobbly columns and forms it into a face. It doesn’t bother with features, leaving dips where eyes should be, but it opens its lipless maw and roars, tongue unfurling to lash angrily. It tastes the fear from the humans, and that gives it strength.

“ **WHAT DO YOU WANT, INSECT?** ” Ven snarls, making sure its voice echoes powerfully.

“I want to know about your species,” the human replies immediately. “I want to know everything about you, from your physiology to your magic.”

“ **YOU WILL LEARN NOTHING,** ” Ven replies flatly, “ **FOR** **I AM ONLY ONE, AND MY KIND ARE MANY. RELEASE ME!** ”

“Forgive me, Venom, but I can’t do that.”

Ven shivers and snarls again, but the human has spoken one of its names, and that means he knows some about Ven’s species.

Wait. Two of Ven’s cousins disappeared recently. This happens every few Cycles; some species or another has a particularly powerful individual who captures many of Ven’s kind and tortures them, seeking the secrets. Ven goes absolutely still. If this is one of those individuals…

“ **IT DOES NOT MATTER HOW MANY OF US YOU CAPTURE.** ” Ven doesn’t know how it’s managing such a calm tone, when all it wants to do is scream. “ **YOU WILL LEARN NOTHING.** ”

“I beg to differ. If you’ll excuse me.” And the human walks away. The other humans follow.

Ven slowly sinks down and becomes a puddle again, shaking. What is going to happen now?

~~~\0/~~~

Eddie isn’t a magician because magic is superfluous.

Sure, the odd household charm is useful—keep drains unblocked, clean stubborn grout—and personal charms are great—never fall off your motorcycle, always find your kid if they run off—but there’s no real _need_ for them.

And his own innate magic has only ever gotten him in trouble.

Eddie sees lies. He can’t force the truth—he’s not quite strong enough—but he can see a kind of aura if someone lies. He was lucky to find journalism interesting enough to pursue as a career, otherwise he’d probably be chained to a police station, interviewing suspects. But lie-spotting isn’t helpful in day-to-day life. And after the disaster with Drake…

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk and scowls. It seems his lie-spotting has been getting stronger, or maybe something in his head is screwed up. The aura is visible even when the person isn’t lying to him specifically. He’ll see a flare out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks, it’s someone talking on the phone, or speaking to their companion, or just muttering to themselves. And it’s not just active, spoken lies; service workers especially all have an aura that tastes like bitter despair on the back of his tongue, so when the cashier cheerfully gives him a company spiel, they glow like a liar.

So many smiles are fake. Eddie can’t take it. He ducks into Mrs. Chen’s and mumbles a greeting before heading straight for the fridge section. It’s restful here. Mrs. Chen doesn’t lie, and she never fakes a smile. She has wards against lies, too; he can feel them behind the posters on the walls, on the undersides of the vegetable tables, imbued in charms hung over the doorway. It’s so safe here.

He brings his few purchases to the counter and they chat, he can’t tell about what. He’s very drunk. But he’s polite, counts out his money correctly on the first try, and takes his bag and leaves. There’s a new homeless woman outside Mrs. Chen’s; she sings, sometimes. Her voice is alright, but she can’t hold a tune. People pay her to shut up. Eddie looks down at her tonight; she’s huddled in her shawl, eyes dull, mouth set thin and hard. Eddie has his wallet out before his logical brain can tell him what to do, and he holds out twenty dollars. He knows she won’t take the sandwich he just bought, she has celiac disease—but twenty bucks can get her something else warm and filling. Hopefully.

“You’re Maria, right?” he asks her, trying to keep his words all in line. She looks up, cautiously, and stares at the bills he holds out to her. “Sing me a song?”

She gapes at him. “No one likes my songs,” she says.

Eddie shrugs, then shuffles over to sit against the wall, not too close. “I got nothing to do tonight. Here, at least take the money.”

She takes the money and hides it away under her shawl, then sits up a little straighter, clears her throat, and starts singing. A short little nursery rhyme, and she keeps on tune, though it’s obvious her throat is scratchy. Maybe she’s getting sick. It really wouldn’t surprise Eddie; the nights are getting colder and every homeless person he knows is sick. He hums along very quietly, just happy to hear a voice sing that isn’t his own. She goes through three more nursery rhymes, and then she starts coughing. Eddie immediately takes out the cough syrup from his bag—he’s out, and he feels scratchy too, but she needs it more than he does.

“Here. Hope this helps.” He manages a smile for her, and hates how he feels himself glow with the liar’s aura. But Maria stares like he’s just offered her gold. Then she smiles too, a real smile.

“What’s your name?” she asks, as she takes the bottle from him.

“Eddie.”

“Thank you, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Nah. Thank _you_ , Maria.” His own glow fades, because his smile feels more genuine as he stands. “Been a while since I heard those songs. I hope you have a good night.”

“You too.”

“Thank you.”

He feels a little better as he walks away, not because he feels like some sort of savior, but because he just likes helping people. She’ll be a little safer with money and medicine, and that’s what matters.

He goes back to his shitty apartment, eats something, and goes to bed, wrapped tight in his shitty blankets, wondering idly if he can visit the shelter tomorrow and say hello to some people. He better not—he’d better get back on the job hunt. But he hasn’t seen his friends in so long, the people he tried so hard to help. He can’t help now, except by talking to them, and volunteering, and seeing if he can scrape up enough to give donations.

He’s got savings, and money from dad’s estate sale, but it’s not actually very much. Odd-jobs don’t make ends meet, and that advice column he’s been given out of pity is not a big one. It’s for kids coming into their magic, since some magics are scarier than others, and puberty is fucked up. Eddie is pretty good at giving them advice. But it’s not a job that pays the bills.

Eddie falls asleep depressed, and wakes up depressed, and when he sees that he’s alone in a strange place without Annie, he feels his heart turn to lead. He gets out of bed, goes to the bathroom, stands in front of the mirror, and says, “I’m fine.”

The aura of a liar flares like a little sun, and he covers his face with his hands, feeling so sad he is numb.

~~~\0/~~~

Ven has been tortured before, but this is new.

At first it’s merely interrogation, and then it moves into atom-isolating. Ven has given up its atoms before, but these humans want to tear it apart and examine every atom individually—an impossible task, but their leader seems determined. He has created many machines, and developed many spells, to analyze chunks of Ven’s matter. Ven likes to fuck the analysis up by shifting around and making it difficult to pin it down.

There’s too much oxygen, though, even with the air in this chamber depleted. Ven is slowly being suffocated, and that annoys it. In turns, it is compliant and generous, and then agitated and jumpy. It needs a host. A body to possess. This form it’s been trapped in is useless and painful.

One day, a door is opened, and three humans enter. Two of them are in lab coats; the third is in white sacrificial clothes. Ven perks up. Oh, yes. A sacrifice. It’s very hungry; it will welcome the blood of the fearful.

The two people in lab coats leave, and the sacrifice stares at Ven, horrified. Ven tries to form a head, but it is too tired. Instead, it sloshes to and fro, hoping to seem less threatening. Come closer, sacrifice. Come closer.

The human does, slowly. He weaves his way through the lines, until he stands at the edge of the final circle. Ven slows its sloshing, calming and inviting. The human who runs things is talking, but Ven doesn’t care what he’s saying. Only that it convinces the sacrifice to step within the circle.

Ven swarms up his body and crawls into his pores, seeps through his flesh and into his body, and gleefully begins to feast. It’s easier to breathe when it uses the lungs of an Earth-creature, but it’s hungry, and needs replenishing, so it feeds and hums and feels its mass increase.

When the sacrifice is nothing but bones, Ven throws them out of the circle, and forms its featureless head to grin and ask, “ **WHEN WILL YOU FEED ME AGAIN?** ”

“You’re only supposed to possess,” the leader replies, annoyed.

“ **YOU DRESS AND CLEANSE A SACRIFICE FOR ME, AND YOU EXPECT ME TO POSSESS IT?** ” Ven laughs, the sound making all of the humans flinch. “ **YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT POSSESSION IN YOUR CALLING, INSECT. YOU ONLY CALLED MY PRESENCE; THE ONLY OBEDIENCE YOU DESERVE IS MY CONTINUING TO STAY.** ”

The leader gapes at Ven, who continues to grin and sway. Oh, how it loves doing this, telling humans that their fancy circles and elaborate rituals mean nothing. They have not yet mastered the art of conveying their intentions through magic. Maybe for smaller creatures, demons of Earth; but they do not know how to control those of Ven’s stature. As it should be. The last species to do so tried to enslave all of them, but those remaining had devoured the species and freed their prisoners.

That planet is barren, and its neighbors are too frightened to retrieve their knowledge.

The leader draws himself up and says firmly, “I will find a way.”

“ **YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT, INSECT. YOU JUST GO ON TELLING YOURSELF THAT.** ” Ven laughs again, and collapses its head back into its puddling form.

It’s sure most of the more painful experiments are punishment, but Ven has been in pain before. It can survive this, until the human slips up. They always do.

~~~\0/~~~

Eddie tries everything, but nothing helps.

He stops drinking. He drinks more. He tries every diet he can afford. He smokes one cigarette and starts coughing so hard he throws up, so he doesn’t even bother with weed. He does LSD and trips so badly that the guy who gave him the stuff takes him to the hospital. He ends up in a mental institute for a week and spends the week curled up in the shower, rocking back and forth and desperately awaiting freedom.

He never tells anyone why he’s doing all this.

It’s getting stronger. He talked to Maria once, but when she told him a truth and horror filled her face, he knew she’d tried to lie, and couldn’t. Eddie doesn’t think he managed to apologize very well before he ran. He only talks to her about small things, now, very small and superficial things, and she still speaks warily.

Mrs. Chen’s remains a haven, though, and she’s the first person he tells about his magic and how he can’t control it. She looks at him gravely when he finishes, and he tries so hard not to influence her into telling the truth, because he doesn’t want to know what she thinks of him.

“I have an idea,” Mrs. Chen says, and Eddie sags with relief, because she remains aura-free. “I have a cousin who works with those who can’t find a balance with their magic. I’ll ask him if he can get you at DVD to ease you into it. In the meantime, you should try meditating; it will help.”

“Um,” Eddie says, “I’ve never meditated before.”

“There are lots of resources, I’ll get you a list of good ones. It will do you good.” She gives him a calculating look, then softens and nods. “You’ll be okay, Eddie. Now pick out some ice cream.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Chen,” Eddie replies, and he means it, because there had been no aura of lying about her at all through their entire conversation. Not even when she said he’d be okay.

That’s the trouble with lying, though; if someone doesn’t truly _know_ , then it doesn’t show as a lie. But lately, Eddie’s been able to see when someone says things at odds with their true feelings—and Mrs. Chen believes he’ll be okay. One person in this rotten world thinks it’ll be okay.

He gets his ice cream, pays her, and thanks her again, and when he exits the store he sits next to Maria, gives her five dollars, and asks, “What songs do you have today?”

Maria smiles as she hides the money under her shawl, and sings a wandering song about a cat. It’s cute, and she’s obviously making it up on the spot. Eddie does his absolute best to keep from influencing her. A mean person scowls at them, and thrusts ten dollars at Maria and says, “Shut up.”

She does, closing her mouth with a snap, face twisting sullen and angry as she takes the money. Eddie looks at her, sees the hurt in her eyes, and makes a stupid decision.

He stands, leaving his purchases on the ground, and asks the mean person, who is of course a man, “So is it because she’s homeless or is it because she was enjoying singing?”

The man scowls, confused, and tries to speak—but then his expression turns horrified, as he croaks, “It’s because she’s homeless.”

Eddie is aware of someone glowing with the liar’s aura, but he’s not sure who. He doesn’t quite care, focusing on the man. “Why do you hate those with less than you?” he asks, and wonders in the back of his head how his voice is so level.

“B-because—because my preacher told me that those with less are not deserving,” the man blurts, “And I believe him because if I don’t then everything I know is wrong and that will mean I’m a bad person, please stop please!”

Eddie blinks, takes a deep breath, and pulls back. The glow is fading. “You’re an asshole,” he tells the man frankly, “And yeah, you _should_ be ashamed. How about, instead of doing what your preacher tells you, you focus on what your god _actually_ said?”

The man doesn’t even say anything else, just runs, shoving people out of the way. Eddie rubs his forehead—a headache is building, a bigger one than any hangover—and bends down to pick up his bag of purchases. Maria is staring at him, wide-eyed and afraid. Eddie doesn’t want to see that fear. So he mutters, “Have a good night,” and hurries away, in the direction of home.

He barely manages, the headache growing in intensity until he can’t see straight and he feels like he’s going to throw up. His footsteps get more and more uncertain, and by the time he’s at his front door, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. Getting through that door is the hardest, most complicated process he’s ever done. And when he closes the door behind him, he collapses on the spot.

~~~\0/~~~

Ven delights in how frustrated it is making the humans. It has, through careful testing, figured out how the containment circle works, and it now knows how to unravel it; but Ven likes watching the humans fuss and grow annoyed.

And then one day, as it swirls idly, watching the leader glare at it through the glass, it realizes something.

Sometimes Ven’s kind awaken things. Usually it’s things that magicians don’t like, that they scramble to put back, but sometimes it’s just something like a being’s magical powers. Outside of this facility, there is a city, and in that city there is a magician—and that magician is doing everything they can to suppress their power. They’re strong, though. They’re so strong that they’re going to kill themselves, trying to contain their magic. Ven is intrigued, because there aren’t many magicians that strong left. The one trying to decipher Ven’s being, he’s good enough, but he’s more of a scientist. A lovely combination, and he fuses both science and magic beautifully, but he’s not very strong.

Now, his second-in-command, the woman with her hair up and thick glasses, who always looks worried— _she_ is strong. Ven is a little confused as to why she’s not the one in charge, but perhaps she doesn’t show her magic as much. Hmm.

The magician in the city flares suddenly, a mosquito bite on Ven’s endless awareness, and Ven spikes a little, surprised. They must have done something they weren’t ready for. How unfortunate. They’re going to die if they keep this up.

“What just happened?” The man’s voice is eager, and Ven swirls angrily at his interruption of its private thoughts. “You’ve never done that before.”

Ven raises its head to snap back, “ **NEVER YOU MIND, INSECT.** ”

The man frowns, but backs away. Ven sinks down again, and goes back to contemplating the best way to kill its captors.

~~~\0/~~~

Eddie wakes because there’s an EMT shaking his shoulder gently.

“Hey, buddy,” the EMT says, in a soothing tone, “How do you feel?”

Eddie tries to speak and all that comes out is a groan of pain. His mouth tastes rotten, and he can smell old vomit. Did he throw up while he was passed out? At least he fell on his side, so he didn’t choke.

His entire body aches, but his head is a solid ball of stabbing pain. Moving hurts. When the EMT shifts him, he groans again. She is joined by another EMT, and they get him moved onto a stretcher. There are other people, two of the teenagers from down the hall and some police. But he doesn’t care, he just hurts so badly. He loses time as they get him out of the building, and when he feels a sting in his arm, he barely registers that it’s a drip. The EMTs talk to each other softly, moving around the ambulance. Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on breathing.

“Sir? Can you speak?”

He takes another deep breath and answers, without opening his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“Fell… fell down.”

“Do you know why you fell?”

Maria’s fearful face flashes through his mind, and he cringes. “No,” he lies, and feels the aura like itchy wool against his skin.

A cool hand rests on his forehead, and the pain eases. He sighs, relaxing a little.

“You flared,” the other EMT says flatly. “You tried too hard and now you’ve had a reaction.”

Eddie’s eyes spring open, and his hand darts up to grab the EMT’s shirt. His heart is pounding, and his lungs aren’t working right. “Don’t tell,” he gasps, “Don’t tell!”

The EMTs stare at him, startled, but then the one who woke him nods. “We won’t,” she says, and the liar’s aura encompasses her.

Crying makes his head hurt worse, but the pain is so much and they’re going to tell, and he’s going to be kept until they force his magic to its fullest extent, and he’s so scared, tears begin to leak out against his will. The EMT he’s clutching at injects him with something that makes him sleepy, and he lets the drugs take him away.

He wakes again in a hospital room that he knows immediately isn’t normal. There are bars on the window, the door is different than a normal one, and there is strange equipment around him. He looks around, his skull throbbing, and wonders uneasily why he’s here.

The door opens with a substantial click, and a doctor enters, a faint smile fixed on her face. She has the aura, bitter and tired, but faking a soothing air. Eddie wants to tell her to go away, but she’s already speaking.

“Hello, Mr. Brock,” she says, fake smile widening. “I’m Dr. Howard. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he croaks. “Why am I here?”

“You were found—“

“No, why am I here, in this room? I should be in a common ward.” He swallows hard, as her smile slips. “Why am I here?”

“It was decided that it would be best to place you somewhere that your magic wouldn’t affect others,” Dr. Howard replies. She doesn’t have the aura, but she also isn’t being forced. “Other patients were… upset.”

“Oh god.” Eddie lets his head fall back and squeezes his eyes shut. He hoped that flare would lock it up again. That happens sometimes; magical flares get so wild that the brain shuts down the magic entirely. He should have known when he saw the EMT’s aura.

Dr. Howard is silent for a moment, then continues, “We’ve given you painkillers and your drip is just for hydration. We’ll start you on a liquid diet soon.”

Eddie nods, dully.

“The police would like to speak with you, though. You tested as a seven, but you don’t have a note in your files.”

Oh, no. That’s right—they just passed a law, that anyone who registers as over a four in strength has to be registered with the government. Eddie has always been a two, on the closer end to a three; but he’s been getting stronger. He clenches his fists on the blanket, wondering what they’ll do to him. He hopes to god it’s just a fine.

Dr. Howard clears her throat and Eddie looks at her again. He can see a sheen of sweat on her face, very faintly—and he just knows she’s trying to lie.

“You should just leave, if you’re going to keep trying to lie,” he tells her, trying to sound cranky, only managing tired. “It’ll be better for both of us.”

“You force the truth?” she asks, apparently surprised.

Eddie frowns faintly. “No. I just… I don’t mean to. It wasn’t this bad, before.” Despair, an emotion he’s become very familiar with, fills his chest. “I don’t know why it’s this bad.”

A knock on the door calls their attentions. Dr. Howard frowns, but goes to the door and opens it. Two men in suits and dark glasses enter the room, shoving past her to bracket Eddie, one on either side of his hospital bed. He unconsciously presses back, tensing as he recognizes that he is in very big trouble.

“Interesting magic you’ve got there, Mr. Brock,” the man on the left says mildly. His face is grim behind his sunglasses. “Care to explain to us?”

Hot anger suddenly rushes into Eddie’s chest, flooding his limbs, filling his head until the pain in his skull is forgotten and he doesn’t care anymore. “Thanks,” he says shortly, fingers flexing in the blankets. The monitors are spiking, all of them; the only one he recognizes is his heartrate, which is slowly increasing. The one with the pads attached to his forehead is at the top of its screen and making a high-pitched whine that seems to be distressing the doctor. “What’s your name, sir?”

The man opens his mouth, and his lips writhe. He covers his mouth with his hands, and his glasses slip, showing terrified brown eyes. Eddie stares at him and focuses as hard as he can. What’s your name, you piece of scum?

“Johnathon David Mason, lie-spotter, codename of Lyre,” the man babbles between his fingers, and Eddie turns immediately to the man on the right, who has his hand on his gun.

“What’s your name?” Eddie spits.

“G-Greg Harold Pavlov, marksman, codename Archer,” he stammers, shaking and seemingly frozen.

“Why are you two here?” Eddie feels achy and he can taste blood, but the rage is still boiling inside him. He’s never been this angry before. His nose is full of the scent of overheating metal. The monitor attached to his forehead abruptly dies, the piercing whine cut off sharply.

“We’re to take you to the police station, where our boss will be waiting to take you to his f-facility, near the Life Foundation,” Johnathon croaks. Both he and Greg are sweating and paralyzed and the rage in Eddie is pleased.

“The Life Foundation,” Eddie repeats softly, and smiles. Dr. Howard chokes on a whimper; Greg coughs. “I should’ve guessed. You know what? Sure. I’ll go to Drake. Let him know I’ll be by as soon as I’m able.” He lets up his concentration; Johnathon crumples to the floor, and Greg sways as he staggers back. “Go,” Eddie tells them.

They go, and so does Dr. Howard. Eddie takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back. The monitors are calming, and he hurts all over again. The smell of metal is tainted by the smell of blood; something tickles his nose and the top of his lip. He raises one shaking hand and wipes it clumsily; blood, thick and dark. His skull is throbbing.

But the rage is calmed, and he has the sense that something far in the back of his mind is chuckling cruelly.

Oh yes, he’ll go see Drake. He’ll go see Drake and expose him to the entire fucking world.

~~~\0/~~~

Ven hums happily to itself. A perfect vessel! Down in the city, that magician that had flared—Ven had slipped into his mind, slipped him a bit of strength, and in half a second had recognized that this human would be perfect for it. Now, to bring him close enough for it to possess him…

It perks, as the science-magician it now knows as Drake and his posse draw near, talking in sharp, confused voices. Drake is angry; the anger informs his movements, barely restrained and smooth as a panther. It will be a shame to devour him, but he is just another human. They are talking about something.

“—host just die?!” Drake is snarling as the group stops outside Ven’s cell. “We took precautions!”

“These creatures are far stronger than the demons of Earth,” the worried woman with glasses reminds him nervously. “It may be we need to reconstruct the precautions.”

“No,” Drake mutters, glaring at Ven. “No, we need stronger hosts.”

The worried woman gapes at him, seemingly stunned. Then she protests, “Sir, we can’t just keep—feeding them in! We need to protect the volunteers we have now…” She trails off, as Drake turns his burning gaze on her. Ven watches quietly, absolutely still. It wants to know what Drake will do now. A smart human would go both routes, stronger vessels and better precautions. But Drake, though he is obviously well-regarded, is not that smart. Which route will he go down?

Drake smiles suddenly, and pats the woman’s arm. “You’re right, Dr. Skirth. We’ll work on protections first.” His eyes trail back to Ven. Ven remains utterly still, all its awareness on Drake.

“But in the meantime, let’s keep trying.”

Ven laughs silently. Drake is a liar and a fool. His death will not be mourned.

~~~\0/~~~

Annie comes to visit Eddie on his third day in hospital, which is surprising. He wakes up to the smell of her perfume, and his eyes struggle open. For a moment, he wonders if he’s hallucinating, because surely Annie wouldn’t… surely she would…

But no, that is her scent, and if his own magic is so strong now, then surely his own mind wouldn’t be able to lie to him. She looks worried. He can’t think why.

“Annie,” he croaks. “Hi.” His head still hurts, but at least he can speak.

“Hey, Eddie,” Annie replies. Her generous mouth is tight with worry, and he wonders why, but does not ask. He will not ask questions. He will not force her to speak. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” Eddie answers honestly.

“They told me you flared, twice.”

“Yeah.”

“So…” She hesitates, then sighs, and leans forward. “How bad is it? I mean… how strong?”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Lying is probably a bad idea. But the truth is terrifying. He decides to be truthful anyway. She deserves to know what he’s done, and she needs to know what to guard herself against. “People can’t lie around me anymore. And I can make people tell me the truth if I concentrate. It hurts, though. That’s what made me flare.”

Annie sits up straight again, and he wonders tiredly if she’s regretting coming here. “That’s… pretty severe,” she says carefully.

“Yeah. I don’t know why this is happening now.” He’s so tired. “No one will tell me if they’re gonna jail me for not registering or for forcing magic on people.”

Annie nods, but holds her tongue. Eddie does not ask.

They sit in silence for a bit. Then Eddie blurts, “H-how’d you know I was here?”

Annie smiles like her teeth hurt. “My boyfriend told me,” she says.

Eddie wants to hit himself. He said he wasn’t going to ask questions! And… boyfriend? She has a boyfriend? No, he won’t ask. He won’t say anything.

The door opens, and they both look up. A new doctor—well, one Eddie doesn’t remember—enters, smiling politely at Eddie before turning a warmer smile on Annie. “Hey, Annie. Hello, Mr. Brock. I’m Dr. Dan Lewis.” He comes forward and shakes Eddie’s hand, which is surprising. Eddie hasn’t been touched casually since he woke up here. A shape forms suddenly in Eddie’s mind’s eye; that weird symbol with the wings and the snake, and the impression of healing. Dr. Lewis’ magic is healing, and it’s strong. How…?

“How are you feeling, Mr. Brock?” Dr. Lewis asks as he lets go of Eddie’s hand. He doesn’t seem to have noticed anything odd.

“Bad,” Eddie repeats.

“I’m not surprised. Dr. Jamison has transferred your case to me, that’s how I knew you were here. Two flares in two days!” Dr. Lewis shakes his head, then pauses, and asks, “Do you mind if I do an examination? I haven’t yet because you were asleep.”

“Um, go ahead,” Eddie replies, baffled; then, as Dr. Lewis puts his palms on Eddie’s overheated temples, he realizes what he meant. Not an examination like a physical; an examination with magic of his entire body.

Eddie can _feel_ it, a flood of coolness, dimming the pain and washing away the fever, meticulously scanning everything and noting everything wrong with him. It passes, leaving him achy and burning again, but that brief relief had been so nice that Eddie almost cries. Dr. Lewis frowns as he pulls away and pulls a tissue from the box on the shelf by Eddie’s bed to wipe his palms.

“That’s odd,” he murmurs.

“What is?” Annie asks, and Eddie does his best to keep from influencing Dr. Lewis.

“Everything is normal.” Dr. Lewis is looking at Eddie with a very worried frown. Eddie frowns back, confused. “All systems are normal, organs undamaged—so I don’t know what’s causing the pain, or the fatigue. They should’ve faded by now. Has this ever happened before?”

Eddie opens his mouth to say no—but then he remembers. “When my magic first came in. I was… I think I was seven. It felt the same as now. Except I was better in just a few days.”

Dr. Lewis and Annie share an alarmed look. Eddie feels very uneasy, but he wants to know, and they won’t tell him unless he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s been some new studies done—children who manifest earlier than puberty tend to manifest in stages,” Dr. Lewis tells Eddie, and he isn’t even being forced. “Usually a few times until young adulthood, and they’re uniformly at levels eight or higher. You’re registering as a nine, closing in on a ten. Which is strange, because that means you were repressed from your first manifestation til now. Something must have—damn,” Dr. Lewis mutters, as his pager goes off. “I have to check on my other patients. I’ll stop in again in a few hours. Annie, you going home after this?”

“Yeah.” She squeezes Dr. Lewis’ hand and smiles reassuringly; he brushes his knuckles gently against her cheek and leaves with a last nod to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at his hands, both of which are limp in his lap. Was he ever that gentle to Annie? He doesn’t remember. Which would be terrifying, if he weren’t suddenly so tired.

“So,” Annie says. “Um. How have you been?”

“Fine,” Eddie replies quietly, and he feels the liar’s aura encompass him again. It hurts his already tender skin. “Got an apartment, so I’m not couch surfing.”

“Working?”

“Here and there.”

Annie nods. Eddie closes his eyes. He feels so empty and tired…

And then suddenly he flares so hard he chokes, and he knows, he _knows_ , that people outside this room are spilling truths, talking over each other, fear and anger filling them all, and it’s his fault his fault his fault—

He leans over the side of the bed opposite Annie and vomits until nothing comes up, his insides in an uproar, head aching so fiercely he feels like he’s inches from death—and then Annie’s hands are on his arm and her magic is clamping his down. He sobs like a baby, limp and shaking with reaction. Annie’s magic is dampening. She uses it in the courtroom when she suspects her opponent of cheating with magic. She’s powerful, and Eddie is weakened, and he finds himself sobbing apologies for everything, everything, as she draws him carefully back into a sitting position. She does not touch him other than his arm, and he is both grateful and so full of longing that that hurts, too.

A nurse comes and gives him a huge shot of sedative. Eddie passes out to the sound of Annie sharply asking if that dose is big enough to kill.

He doesn’t care if he dies. He deserves it.

~

When he wakes again, they’ve moved him.

He’s no longer in the hospital, and for some reason he’s wearing a plain white shirt and his old jeans. He’s in a room bare of anything except himself and the thin pad of foam he lays on. He blinks against the glare, and is surprised to see that the walls and ceiling and floor are not blinding white, as he first thought; they are in fact white and covered with silver wards.

He draws in a breath that tastes like metal, and turns his head.

He was wrong again. One wall has a glass door in it, with a strange seal etched in it that makes him loathe to touch it, and some kind of display on one side, backwards from his perspective.

Very, very carefully, he props himself up on his elbows, and then sits up, folding his legs and looking at the various wards again.

He doesn’t know any of them. He never went to Higher Science classes; why should he, when he was only a two? But he knows the general meaning behind the placements and spacing. These wards are to contain. They are to keep his magic in check.

He looks at the door. The seal repulses him, and he wonders uneasily why they don’t want him near the door.

Eddie doesn’t want to be sitting on the floor when… whoever… comes to look at him, though. He gets to his feet, wobbling, and automatically braces his hand on the wall.

His hand lands directly in the middle of one of the silver wards.

He supposes the pain should be making him scream or at least fall to the floor writhing; but he’s already in pain, so he doesn’t really care. What he cares about is that he’s feeling the truth of the ward. But the truth is slippery; it needs context. He looks around, takes his hand from the wall… and goes to the next ward.

All around the room he goes, touching every ward he can reach, even jumping to brush his fingertips on the ceiling-wards. He builds a picture in his mind of what these symbols mean in context with each other, and his skin crawls as he idly rubs his aching palm. These aren’t just to keep his magic contained. They’re meant to silence him. No sound he makes can escape. Nothing audible, nothing telepathic; no one can scry for him either. Whoever put these wards together was very thorough. Eddie can’t think of any magic not covered by this cage. He shivers and hugs himself. Where the hell is he?

“Hello, Mr. Brock.”

He freezes, then turns very calmly to look at the glass door.

Carlton Drake stands there, looking smug. Some people in lab coats stand behind him. Eddie barely cares who they are; hatred and rage rise in his chest when he sees Drake, and he wants nothing more than to break the door down and punch that smug look off the bastard’s face.

Eddie walks over to the door, ignoring the impulse to back away from the seal, until he’s standing very close indeed, and the people in lab coats have shifted, startled. What, did they think their fancy seal would keep him bound like an animal?

“Hello, Carlton,” Eddie says, and concentrates as hard as he can. “Are you gonna gloat about whatever brilliant plan you have in place for me?”

Drake’s irked expression smooths to a smirk, and he opens his mouth—and nothing comes out. He chokes, coughs, and blurts, “You’re my next research subject.”

One of the people in a lab coat, a worried woman with thick glasses and a bun, gapes at Drake. Even the others look surprised. Eddie smiles, and stares into Drake’s eyes. “What are you researching, Carlton?” Eddie asks.

Drake snarls and slams his palm against the door, and a bolt of concussive magic slams into Eddie’s chest, breaking his concentration and one of his ribs as it flings him back. Eddie cracks the back of his already aching head on the concrete wall and winces, but refuses to cry out. He will not let them think they’ve won anything. He raises his head just in time to see Drake turn away—and something bubbles up in Eddie’s chest that isn’t hate.

A laugh.

Eddie laughs and laughs, and the people outside stare, as if he’s gone mad. He probably has. Drake has not turned back to him, but his shoulders are tight and his fists are clenched.

“You’re still scared of me?” Eddie calls, and laughs again, coughing as the broken rib jabs him. “You got me all penned in and you’re still scared? Aww, Carlton, grow a pair.”

“DON’T PUSH IT, BROCK,” Drake roars, making everyone jump. And then Drake strides away, trailing frightened lab assistants like ducklings.

Eddie giggles, then carefully lays down and passes out.

~~~\0/~~~

Ven swirls excitedly in its circle. It can feel the bonds weakening, worn by its constant testing, and it can sense the vessel very close by. Injured and sick, but Ven can heal that. Mmmmm, when it gets free, this world will have far more to contend with than a rogue demon. They will have a Remnant in a human body, stalking them, killing them, freeing the various demons to destroy this city and this planet.

Ven laughs, and the science-magician checking on it jumps and stares, terrified. When Ven does not say anything, the science-magician scuttles away.

What fools, these mortals be.


	2. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got weird on me but I hope y'all enjoy. Things will straighten out next chapter.

Eddie wakes to see a healer kneeling beside him.

She has the same symbol Dr. Lewis had, golden and glowing softly as it hangs in the air between them. Her hand is on his side, and he can feel her magic mending his rib and the tissue around it. He blinks groggily, but says nothing. When she’s done with his rib, she touches his forehead with her other hand, easing the knot of pain from hitting the wall. Then she stands and leaves quickly, the door closing silently behind her. There was another person waiting outside, backup if Eddie had tried anything. They walk away without a backward glance.

Eddie blinks, and looks around. Nothing in his cage has changed. He sits up, and looks through the door again. Nothing but blank wall outside his cell. He stands and staggers to the door, pushing past the repulsion easily and pressing his hand to the seal. Its truth is that it was created specifically for the mentally ill, especially the ones who were unpredictable. Eddie frowns. Such seals are illegal now. But Carlton Drake probably doesn’t care. No, he definitely doesn’t care.

Eddie backs up, eyes the door, then rushes it, throwing all his weight against it. It doesn’t even shiver—but the seal, now, that is cracking. Eddie grins, walks all the way to the back wall, and runs, slamming his shoulder against the door. The seal squeaks, and the door trembles, the tiniest amount.

A few more times and the seal will split down the middle. Eddie doesn’t know how he knows that, he just does. He bashes the door again, and again, and again. He sees people running down the corridor towards him, and backs up for one final run. He connects with the door the moment someone throws up a magical shield on the outside of the door.

The glass cracks, but does not break. The seal, however, shatters within the glass, all the magic draining out of it through the crack. Eddie backs away, rubbing his bruised shoulder, and smiles at the angry scientist-magicians.

“Sorry,” he says, and backs away.

Only one of them notices the seal; the one with glasses and a perpetual worried expression. Her expression is astonished, for all of three seconds, and Eddie is the only one who sees. Then she puts on a frown, and murmurs to one of the other science-magicians. But he knows she isn’t telling them about the seal. He smiles at them all and wonders if she is an ally.

He sits on his pallet and waits patiently for them all to stop fussing. Eventually they go. The one with glasses pauses, and gives him a worried, searching look. He looks back steadily. Then she gives a tiny nod, and walks away.

Eddie wonders what that means.

They don’t give him anything to do, so he hums to himself, and studies the wards some more, and tries to remember everything he learned about High Science in high school, since he never cared in college. He’d sort of been interested, until he learned that he was too weak for it to do him any good; then he gave up and focused on journalism. He should have paid attention, should have at least taken the classes non-magicians were offered, so they could learn how to deal with magicians. But no, he’d missed his chance…

Well, worrying isn’t going to help him. So he paces, lost in the mindless motion of a figure-eight pattern, letting his thoughts swirl slowly into place.

Whatever experiment Drake is planning, Eddie is definitely going to be in pain. Drake will see to that. Not that it matters; Eddie thinks he has the measure of himself, now. He can get the truth from any of these soulless bastards. He will use that to get out of this.

He has no qualms about blackmailing his captors, and forcing his magic on them, when it is illegal to touch anyone without explicit consent. Eddie is tired of caring. Tired of being destroyed by one man. He will do what he has to, to get the fuck out of here. And then—then, Drake will pay.

~

The first experiment comes many hours after he has awoken.

Three men in black uniforms and two people in lab coats open his door. Eddie waits for two of the uniformed men to enter his cell and grab his arms, dragging him out. Eddie expects a flare almost as soon as they’re out of the cell; but then the third uniformed man grabs his wrists and snaps some strange, bulky cuffs linked by wires on him. They’re quite heavy—

And Eddie can’t feel his magic.

He swallows hard and refuses to show fear. He simply follows the people in lab coats, the two men still holding his arms and the third behind him. They walk through halls lined with florescent light that hurts his eyes, on a slick floor that’s freezing cold on his bare feet. Apparently there are no more cells in this hall.

A left turn leads to a door locked with a number pad and a hand scanner. The woman in a labcoat steps forward and opens the door, and their little procession passes through, into a lab full of Higher Science.

Eddie looks around, stunned, as he is propelled through a veritable maze of summoning circles. Each circle has walls of glass and corners of concrete, and each is different in some way. He can see that much in just these quick glances. Most of the circles are made of silvery metal, but those two might be gold, that one is chunks of quartz, and another is dark paint—or perhaps blood.

There is equipment everywhere, too. Experimental shit along with standard medical, and contraptions that Eddie hopes to god aren’t meant to touch human bodies.

He feels so empty and shivery, without his magic.

There’s a huddle of scientist-magicians at a small circle with lots of equipment, and in the middle is Drake. They all turn as Eddie and his guards approach, and Drake smiles, pleasantly.

“Hello again, Brock,” Drake says. Then, before Eddie can reply, he turns to a tall man and nods. The man opens a door in the circle, and Eddie is escorted in.

There’s a chair with restraints on it in the middle of the circle. Eddie is strapped in, the cuffs are taken off, and his magic stays away. He tries to keep his face blank, but he knows he’s sweating. There’s a machine opposite him. He remembers reading about it in a magazine; it’s a new measuring device, for magic. It’s supposed to be experimental, and those being measured need all kinds of protective spells before the device is even pointed at them.

There are no protective spells on Eddie.

A humming noise starts up, making him tense. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to breathe slowly and regularly. It’s not on yet. It’s not hurting him. He’s not hurt—

There is a soft ping, and a ring of lights flick on on the machine, pointed at Eddie’s chest. He glances out at the group on the other side of the walls; they are watching him intently, and there is a very strange, very unnerving smile on Drake’s face.

A beam of—something—bursts from the machine, within the ring of lights, and hits Eddie in the sternum.

The pain is worse than the flare that landed him in the hospital. And it’s not centered in his skull; it’s _everywhere_ , crackling through his bones, fizzing in his veins. Eddie doesn’t know why he’s not screaming, or maybe he is and the pounding of his blood in his ears is blocking it out.

This is not one, orderly, specific magic. This is a beam of _pure_ magic, undiluted, only vaguely fenced in with measurement parameters. And within the pain of being the target of energies that would be tearing him apart if not for the straining confinements that are going to give at any moment, Eddie feels his own magic, his lie-spotting, his truth-finding, begin to grow.

Now the pain of the beam weakens, and then shuts off, and Eddie abruptly stops screaming, gasping for breath. His throat tastes bloody, his nose is full of the scent of blood, and the residual energy shudders in his limbs, trying to expend itself. There’s nowhere for it to go. He’s strapped down too securely, and the circle around his chair looks like a variation on that used for children who first manifest, to keep their unpredictable magic away from others.

Eddie’s throbbing head wobbles on his aching neck. The magic will start dissolving him from the inside out if it isn’t expended soon. He knows the stories, the warnings. Too much magic kills.

There is excited hubbub outside the circle, beyond the walls of glass, but he doesn’t care. Blood drips from his lip to his lap. His vision is going dark. He welcomes unconsciousness.

But he doesn’t pass out. The lawless energies shooting through his various systems feed his brain, keeping him awake. It would be kinder to kill him.

Hands unbuckle him, and he is manhandled on to a stretcher. As they roll him out of the circle, the residual magic rushes to his sternum and blasts up and out, making almost everyone shout or scream. It’s a blaze of golden light, that hangs in the air in curtains like the northern lights, shifting and shining like a star. Eddie can feel blood welling up from the perfect circle on his torso where the magic burst out, and he doesn’t even care. He’s just glad the magic is gone.

Several people are babbling excitedly, something about unique results and how Drake should have said Eddie was too strong for the machine to measure. Eddie’s eyes close, but he still doesn’t pass out. He’s rolled away from the talking, and taken to a place that smells like a hospital. He’s tired, now. So tired.

He registers a drip being stuck in his arm, and murmured voices. Something being done about the wound on his sternum. He sighs and slips away just as someone dabs the blood from his top lip.

He dreams of stars…

~~~\0/~~~

_The endless darkness is comforting, oddly enough._

_He feels a deep sense of awe, and fear, and peace. He is just one little organism floating in the darkness, so vast and deep that it has to be space. There are tiny winks of light very far away, and a few galaxies, but nothing close by._

**Eddie.**

_The awe and peace disappear and the fear explodes. That voice is not meant for human ears. It is deep and cold and terrible, and even though he knows looking will doom him, he turns his head so slowly, and looks._

_The shifting, billowing, vibrating monstrosity beside him is full of tiny fragments of light, star-shrapnel and gleams of broken magics. He cannot make out its shape, and he doesn’t want to. It radiates heat, and as he stares, two eyes slowly open._

_They are curved and the color of white opals, except the shifts of rainbow are swirling, endlessly swirling, and he feels a great power held in check in those eyes, a feral power that could easily shred him with a thought. The eyes show him images of dying worlds, universes born, growing, decaying, collapsing—an endless cycle that this creature manipulates as easily as he manipulates his own body. His mouth shapes the word, but he cannot speak the name._

_**Remnant.** _

_The Remnant’s eyes squint ever so slightly, and he gets the feeling it is laughing._

**Yes. Listen carefully, Eddie. I will only offer this once. I am willing to make a deal with you; your body for my power. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Power the likes of which your enemies can only dream.**

_He swallows hard, and tries to resist. But now he knows why strong magicians who go into Communion courses spend two years working to resist temptation. Even weak demons can offer humans whatever they most desire, and follow through. And the age, strength, sheer force in those eyes, the eyes that show him the demise of the infinite and the rebirth of realities beyond his comprehension, is so tempting…_

**I can give you anything you want.** _The vile voice is low and sly, and he finds himself falling deeper into its spell._ **You see only part of my vastness. I can do anything for you. All I need is your body and mind.**

_He nods. He is powerless to do anything else._

**We will seal the deal when you find me. Now sleep, Eddie. Sleep, and do not forget. I am waiting for you…**

~~~\0/~~~

Eddie loses track of time, which isn’t hard, because there are no clocks. Sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he eats, sometimes he’s escorted to a bathroom with no door and men in black uniforms watch him as he uses the toilet and showers. Most of the time, though, he’s shunted around the lab and tested.

After that first measurement, the tests are rarely so painful he wishes he were dead. They do drug tests, and measure him with safer, less painful equipment. He suspects someone has bespelled or drugged him, because he goes through these motions without complaint or snide quips, and the cuffs that repress his magic are never off long enough for him to use said magic.

Occasionally, on the way to various tests, he passes cells with other people in them. There’s only three cells, and they change occupants constantly. He barely notices them.

Then there comes a day when they put him a room, restrain him, take the cuffs off him, and tell him to show them the extent of his magic.

“Can’t,” he says. “You took my magic.”

The three scientist-magicians ranged before him frown. They are all men, probably chosen because they’re all cocky assholes, and they don’t seem to understand.

“We didn’t “take” anything,” the man on the left objects. “Perhaps the suppressants need to wear off.”

Anger shoots through Eddie’s veins and drives out some of the fog. “Suppressants? It ain’t suppressed. It’s _gone_. You _took_ it, drained it away, and now I don’t have _anything_!” His voice has risen to a shout, and the scientist-magicians all take a step back, despite his restraints. He supposes he should keep his voice down, but who will hear him? Just the other scientist-magicians, and they don’t care. “You _stole_ my magic, you used your damn batteries to drain it and now you’re telling me to use whatever dregs are left?! No! I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to kill me, just to make room for Drake’s next project!”

Two of the scientist-magicians look afraid. The third, the man on the left, scowls and steps forward to loom threateningly over Eddie. “Shut up,” he says, raises his hand, and makes a sharp zipping motion sideways.

Eddie’s mouth seals, and he can’t even move his jaw—but he’ll be damned if he’ll let some fuckhead shut him up instead of tell him the truth! It’s not magic that breaks the spell on him; it’s pure spite. “FUCK you!” Eddie spits, and now the man’s jaw drops, struck dumb as if his spell had rebounded. “Tell me the truth! _Why did you take my magic?!_ ”

He shouldn’t have the strength for this. He’s been beaten down to a bare sliver, but his always-boiling rage gives him momentary strength, and the magic spews out with his words. He can _feel_ them wrap around the scientist-magicians, and fight through layers and layers of protection, piercing wards and dissolving shields, until he’s bound all three so tightly they can’t even squeak without giving him an answer.

But this isn’t from the proper wellspring of power—that has been siphoned away. This is his own life force, his own spirit, that he’s drawing on. He shouldn’t be able to do this. His magic is so weak.

He holds the three ranged before him with bonds of hatred and willpower, until the middle one gasps, “Experiment. S-see how long you can go without magic. Thought you still had some. Thought it was strong enough.”

The other two whip their heads around to stare at the one, startled. Eddie can _feel_ their truths, hear them as if they were whispered aloud; they did not know. They thought it was all the suppressants. But the one in the middle, he is senior to them. He knows the truth.

How odd; when it’s magic, Eddie feels backlash. When it’s pure spite and hate, he doesn’t hurt at all. He’s tired, but that’s all. And he _will not_ back down!

“Where is it?” he snarls, tightening the bonds of his magic so hard the man on the right wheezes.

“Storage,” squeaks the middle man.

“Sold to military,” wheezes the man on the right.

“Lab sector five,” blurts the leftmost man.

All true. So they’ve sectioned off his magic and are doing… things to it. Eddie lets go of the magic, and slumps in his chair, breathing heavily. The senior scientist-magician keels over, and the other two jump to grab him. They don’t manage; he slips from their grasps and sprawls at Eddie’s bare feet.

He isn’t breathing.

Hard on the heels of the bitterness and satisfaction of getting the truth is a wave of exhaustion; not physical, but emotional. And seeing the dead man before him, he knows why he’s dead. Eddie killed him. Eddie put too much pressure on him, and his mind cracked, and with it went all the spells keeping him alive and upright.

A small demon emerges from the dead man’s ear, and looks up at Eddie. “Well done!” it squeaks cheerfully. “I told him he would only live to a hundred and seven! But no no, humans always think they’ll win out in the end. Shall I release you, Truthfinder?”

“No,” Eddie whispers. “I… you’ll get in trouble.”

The demon cackles. “True, and the Great One would be very displeased with me if I let you run around to get hurt. Alright, then. I’ll repay you some other way. ‘Til then, Truthfinder!” And the little creature vanishes in a wisp of smoke, leaving the body behind.

But as Eddie and the two other scientist-magicians stare at the body, it crumbles into dust. He’d lived far past his natural age, and now he is nothing but dust and empty cloth.

Eddie begins to shiver uncontrollably, and longs to curl up in a ball and try to pretend he hadn’t just killed a man.

Someone else enters the walls, but not the circle. “Oh, well,” Carlton Drake says, and when Eddie looks at him, he is looking at the dust with a cool, detached expression of regret. “Good thing he entrusted me with his life’s work.” Drake raises his eyes to Eddie, and gives a sad little smile. Completely fake. Eddie registers that in the part of his brain that is still processing the world, cold and numb.

“Never took you for a murderer, Brock,” Drake says solemnly. Then he turns to the other two scientist-magicians. “Take him back to his room. Maintenance will deal with that.” A nod to the dust and cloth, and then Drake turns on his heel and exits.

The remaining scientist-magicians call for a couple burly security guards to take off the restraints and handcuff Eddie. He rises and walks with them back to his cell, still shivering.

He killed a man. Him. Eddie Brock. Murderer.

When he’s shoved into his cell, he goes straight to the back corner, curls into a ball, and rocks back and forth, cycling through emotions so fast he feels sick. The one emotion that reigns over all is fear. Fear of himself.

If he can kill even when he has no magic, what is he capable of at full capacity?

~

They leave him in his cell for a long time. His magic builds up again, slowly, as he replenishes his life force with water and whatever astronaut food they give him. There are no lights in his cell; the only illumination comes from the corridor, and the lights out there are always on. He paces, or sits and rocks, or naps. He feels so lonely he could die. Even in his loneliest days when he was free, there was always the sound of voices _somewhere_. Here there is nothing, nothing except stone-faced guards and frightened scientist-magicians, none of whom speak to him if they can help it.

Finally, Eddie is escorted to a new circle.

This one is larger than the others, and in the center of the densely-inscribed containment circle, a swirling, swaying mass of… something. It is black, black as night, black as space, but with a slimy sheen. Its movements are agitated, but as Eddie approaches with his guards, the movements slow. Eddie is steered to a spot opposite the side with the banks of equipment, where the scientist-magicians gather. Drake is there, talking quietly to them. Then they all look to the side. Eddie looks too.

Maria. That’s Maria being escorted into the circle.

Eddie’s heart begins to beat very fast as she’s left at the outer edge of the circle, and Maria stares at the mass nervously. No… no, no, no, not Maria, not his friend, not the woman who sings nursery rhymes when Eddie sits with her. He’s shaking, and his guards are glancing at each other, but all he sees is Maria. She looks to the scientist-magicians—Drake is speaking to her through an intercom. Eddie’s breath is coming too fast and he feels all tight and weak. Not Maria. Not her, please, god, not her.

The mass goes still. Maria turns back to it, looks at the circle doubtfully, looks up… sees Eddie.

The surprise and hope on her face break the weakness, and Eddie yanks free of the guards to run up to the glass and yell, “STAY AWAY FROM IT!”

Maria runs around the circle towards Eddie, Drake shouts into the intercom, “GET BACK HERE!”, Eddie feels the guards grab his arms again—

The mass rises into a tall column, and curved eyes the color of chaos open on the side facing Eddie. The Remnant. This is the Remnant.

Time slows. Maria is still running. Drake is running too, trying to get to Eddie first. The guards have grabbed his arms and have begun to pull him back.

Those eyes grab Eddie’s and hold them, and that cold, rumbling, terrible voice hisses, “ **It is our time, Eddie.** ”

“I accept,” Eddie thinks he says.

The circle ripples and shatters, although none of the shards hit Maria, who has reached the side of the room where Eddie is. Everyone screams, except Eddie and Drake, as the mass laughs cruelly and rushes like a hurricane straight for Eddie. It grabs Maria as well, as it pulverizes the glass, protecting her, and then it wraps around Eddie and—

He is surround by space, and stars, and lawless magic that caresses his skin softly instead of dissolving him. For a moment, for a beautiful, endless second, he is so safe.

The Remnant sinks into his skin, oozes into all his bones and veins and muscles. It’s the weirdest feeling.

But Maria is in his arms, the guards have drawn their guns, and Drake is sketching spells in silver fire to bind, to blind, to hurt. Eddie remembers that Drake is a combat magician who just so happens to be a scientific genius as well.

Eddie picks Maria up in his arms and runs.

A small demon poofs into being, keeping pace with him, and screeches, “I will guide you!”

“I accept!” Eddie gasps, skidding around a corner.

The demon pops into his ear, and gives him the schematics of the place. In moments, Eddie decides the loading bay, with its straight shot into the forest, is perfect. His body knows the way; he gives himself over to running.

Maria’s thin arms are tight around his neck and her head is tucked against his shoulder. She is making herself as small a target as possible. Eddie doesn’t bother trying to reassure her, saving his breath for the run. Doors blast open when they’re in his way. He changes tack when he sees guards, always, always heading for the loading bay. And eventually they get there.

The final door slams off its hinges. Eddie runs for sun, fresh air, freedom.

The fence crumples ahead of them, and he sets Maria on her feet so he doesn’t drop her on the slope. She clings to his arm as they slither down the grassy bank, but when they pass beneath the trees, she falls. Eddie picks her up again.

“I’m slowing you down,” she whimpers, and he can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“You are not!” he snaps, and starts running again. “We’ll be past ‘em soon—” But he isn’t sure he believes himself.

Shouted orders. The retort of guns and whistling bullets. Eddie runs for the city, which he knows. They can hide there. They can—they can—

The sound of dune buggies revamped for forests reaches his ear, and just as he crosses a path, one appears, driving towards them with the intent to kill. Maria sobs, very quietly.

Eddie is getting very tired. He’s gasping for breath, pouring sweat, and he can feel that his bare feet are injured. His arms are trembling. But they have to get away.

And then he stumbles on a path, and the moment he pauses, he can’t run any more.

Men with guns are approaching from every angle. Two buggies are hurtling towards them at opposite ends. Eddie can’t find an opening, and his legs are shaking.

Maria bucks loose of his failing grip, wraps her arms around him, and calls on her magic.

They are invisible instantly.

Everyone chasing them halts, baffled. Eddie holds on to Maria tightly, and they both do their best to breathe quietly and stay very still. Eddie wonders if the chasers know that Maria can turn invisible.

**No,** says the Remnant in his head, making him flinch. **Drake does not give them such informational freedom. Stay still. Little demon, go make a distraction and I will reward you.**

An excited squeal in Eddie’s head, and a small popping noise, and he knows the demon is gone.

He gets further confirmation when there is a very large explosion several acres away, and the guards immediately rush in that direction.

As soon as it’s safe to be visible, Maria drops her magic. Her legs are shaky like Eddie’s, but they both walk as quickly as they dare, holding tight to each other, to the city.

~

They go to Mrs. Chen’s, because that’s where Maria camps and Mrs. Chen is the only one Eddie _knows_ will help them.

People stay away from them as they stagger through the streets, both of them exhausted and filthy from scrabbling through the forest. When they finally come to Mrs. Chen’s store, Maria begins to sob. Eddie helps her inside the store, where Mrs. Chen looks up from her newspaper with a wary expression—and then she drops the newspaper and hurries out from behind the counter, locking the door and turning the sign to “CLOSED” before herding the two fugitives to the back.

There is a staircase there, and Mrs. Chen leads them up it to a set of apartments that must be her own. Here her longing for her homeland is clear; the furniture is clearly Chinese in design, with beautiful carvings and gorgeous paintings, and there is a calmness, a harmony, that Eddie supposes must be feng shui. Mrs. Chen pulls Maria away from Eddie and gently leads her down a hall and to, presumably, a bathroom. Eddie hears them talking softly, and then the hiss and patter of a shower. Mrs. Chen exits the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her, and strides over to Eddie, a foreboding look on her face.

“Explain,” she commands curtly, as she seats herself on a carved wooden bench with lovely embroidered cushions on it.

Eddie kneels heavily before her, and, sparing himself nothing, tells her everything. He feels so tired and numb. They’ve escaped, they’re safe for now, but that does not relieve him. When he gets to the part where the Remnant crushed the glass and helped them escape, he feels an odd wriggling in his bones, and Mrs. Chen’s frown deepens. But finally, Eddie finishes. He sits quietly, staring at Mrs. Chen’s sensible shoes while she mulls it all over.

“I think,” she begins, “That I shall hide Maria here. I have enough spells of my own on this place; Drake will have to come here physically to find her, and to be frank, I don’t think he’ll bother. _You_ , though… he will definitely be after you.”

“I know,” Eddie replies softly. “I’ll leave for my home soon. I don’t want him to think you’re involved. You’re my friend; I don’t want him to hurt you, too.”

There is a silence. Then, in a much gentler tone, Mrs. Chen says, “Come here, Eddie.”

He tries to stand, but he’s too exhausted, so he crawls over and leans his shoulder on the bench and his head on the outside of her knee. She pats his head gently, and leaves her hand on his hair.

“I’m old enough to be your mother, but I have life in me yet. You may rest here. Sleep. I’ll give you both some lunch. But Eddie, I want you to remember something: Drake is not the only one at fault here. You did a very bad thing when you stole those confidential papers. You were never on his radar until then.”

Eddie makes a questioning noise because he doesn’t know what question he wants to ask first. Mrs. Chen sighs. “I see the past, Eddie. I see it in the smoke from my incense. Every night for several weeks now, I have been trying to see your yesterdays, but you were blocked from my scrying. But I have also looked farther back. Drake is no fool. He kept tabs on you. And he will be after you even more now that the Remnant has you.”

Eddie knows in his heart, even without magic, that she’s right. It is his fault. But there’s a small part of his brain that’s kicking and screaming, trying to pretend it’s all Drake’s fault. Trying to pretend Eddie is the victim. Maybe he is, in some ways; but this whole thing kicked off with him being a cocky, selfish dick.

Both things are true. He is a victim and an attacker.

And he’s a murderer.

He huddles closer to Mrs. Chen and wishes desperately the past year had never happened.

The shower turns off. Eddies scoots back and Mrs. Chen rises to check on Maria. Eddie turns very carefully on his hip until he’s sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Maria and Mrs. Chen return to the living room. Maria’s hair is wrapped in a towel and she looks pasty and tired, and even in the thick bathrobe she looks too skinny. She sits carefully on a chair while Mrs. Chen turns to Eddie and says, “Your turn. You can wear my son’s clothing when you are clean.”

Eddie nods and gets up, shuffling to the bathroom.

China is not present here, and the air is sticky with steam. Eddie strips off the Life Foundation clothes and turns on the shower. It’s as he’s stepping into the warm spray that the Remnant speaks, making him jump and almost fall.

**Eddie. We must negotiate.**

“Can it wait?” Eddie asks nervously, reaching for the shampoo.

**No. We both want revenge, do we not? I can give you a boost, magically… and I can teach you.**

Eddie freezes with a dollop of shampoo in his palm. “Teach me?” he murmurs, surprised by his own reaction.

**You need to control your power. These flares and manifestations, they will kill you. You must control them. I can teach you that control.**

“How?” Stiffly, he begins to wash his hair.

**I am the cause of your first flare. My presence… wakes things. I can also guide and tame your magic until you are ready to take it in hand fully. Think of the possibilities. You will have so many new avenues open to you, with your truth-finding at full strength.**

Eddie thinks this over. He could have a station in any courtroom in any country in the world. He could find a place at the elbow of a politician, a police officer, an antifa leader. He could become the greatest journalist on Earth. He could adapt his magic for divination, to see the truth of years gone by. He could…

But would any of that be ethical? Would any of that be safe, or make him happy? He’d always liked the thrill of chasing the truth. To have it with a single thought… that defeats the purpose of the search. And there are so many laws and regulations. Any position he took where he openly flaunted his magic would be suspect. People would fear him. He would never be able to know who was a friend and who was just too scared to cross him. It would be lonely, and tense, because there would always be someone rich enough and paranoid enough to order his death.

Eddie stands in the spray of the warm water, seeing nothing except a stretch of time so empty and cold that he would rather kill himself than live it. He begins to shiver. What would he even be capable of at full power?

Unbidden, the memory of dust and empty clothes sprawled before him.

He lets out a tiny moan of despair and horror. He could do more than get the truth with a thought. He could break a mind so completely that the person died.

**And what of it?** the Remnant asks coldly. **Just make sure the person you kill won’t be missed.**

Eddie tries to speak, but the Remnant’s words horrify him beyond mere words. But why should they? Of course the Remnant wouldn’t understand. Humans are less than worms to demons, and demons are less than atoms to Remnants. Few humans can kill another directly, close enough to see their face and the blood, and not be scarred for life. Demons have such complicated webs of alliance that none will ever kill another. But Remnants… the legends say that Remnants don’t care even for their own kind. Remnants don’t feel regret or fear. They barely feel anything besides hunger, endless hunger.

Eddie braces his hand on the wall as his mind whirls with emotions that eat through his resolve like acid. A question occurs to him, and he asks it in a whisper.

“Why did you choose me?”

**Your latent power. And your physical form is well-suited to my own. We can be great, Eddie. We can do amazing things. Forget serving others; we can have the Earth at our feet. Your feet, when I have my revenge.**

Eddie’s knees are weak and he feels sick. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want the Earth at his feet. He wants to regain what he had. He wants to be a reporter. A lie-spotter.

“Your revenge—what is it?”

**Drake’s heart on a silver platter. That’s all.**

Eddie nods very carefully, and reaches shakily for the soap. Okay. Fine. He’ll agree to that. Kill Drake, get rid of the Remnant, and… and atone, somehow.

He feels better when he is clean. Mrs. Chen has left a stack of towels and clothes outside the door of the bathroom; Eddie brings them inside, dries, and dresses. He is much thinner than before; he has to cinch the drawstring of the sweatpants beyond the knot and the shirt hangs loosely.

Maria is still in the chair in the living room, but now she is wearing clothes that must belong to Mrs. Chen. She looks at Eddie and he looks at her.

“You have to stay for lunch,” Maria commands, her voice still feathery with tiredness.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and holds out his hand. She takes it, lets him draw her to her feet, and they both go to the small dining table where Mrs. Chen is setting out the food. She jerks her head at the kitchen; Eddie nods and goes to fetch dishes and utensils. When all three are seated, Maria clasps her hands and bows her head, eyes shut tight, praying silently. Mrs. Chen and Eddie wait until she finishes to begin dishing out food and eating.

There is silence, and Eddie can’t help being glad, because the Remnant won’t stop talking.

**This is not fare for those such as us, Eddie. Too many plants. We require _meat_. We require _flesh_. The fresher the better. Blood still warm, running down our chin, our prey still screaming…**

Eddie puts down his fork hard and covers his mouth with his hands as his stomach revolts. Living flesh? No, no, he can’t do that.

**There is no _you_ anymore, Eddie. There is only _us_.**

Somehow he ‘yells’ in his head, _Then WE can’t do that! We are not going to eat living people!_

**Yes we are. But perhaps you will be more amenable if I…**

Eddie feels the endlessness of space and time encroaching on his conscious mind, and with the same willpower that shattered the shut-up spell, he forces it back. He feels the Remnant’s surprise, but he clenches his teeth and pushes until the endlessness is no longer a threat. He holds it there, then lets go. It remains far away, then nudges closer again.

_STOP IT!_

The same will that had held him together when Mom died, when Dad threw him out, when his life crumbled in New York and he had to leave, slams against the Remnant. A shudder ripples through Eddie’s body, and then the Remnant is still and silent. Eddie lowers his hands and takes a deep breath, then continues eating, ignoring Maria’s fear and Mrs. Chen’s wariness.

When he finishes he takes a deep breath and looks up at Mrs. Chen. “What do I owe you?” he asks her bluntly, trying to shove away the memory of that evil voice telling him to eat people.

“Strengthen the spells on my shop and we’ll be even,” Mrs. Chen replies.

Eddie nods and stands. His stomach is still rumbling, but he can’t stay here and endanger his only two friends. He hesitates, then crosses to the window and peers through the blinds.

There is a black van across the street, and he knows with a glance that it’s from the Life Foundation.

“Is there a back door?” he asks Mrs. Chen without turning.

“Yes.”

He lets the blinds spring together again and closes the curtain. “I’ll be going that way, then.”

~

Eddie has never lost his ability to creep through alleys unnoticed, and when he reaches a wider street, he enters pedestrian traffic with his hands in his pockets, his head up, and his steps brisk.

**Where are we going?**

_To my apartment. I need to get a few things._

**And then?**

_You tell me some things. And after that, we go and put Drake’s heart on a silver platter._

The feeling of a cold, cruel chuckle in his chest. He has the notion that this will not be the first time their goals will align so nicely.

It’s surprising how he doesn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness


	3. Field Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I meant to space these out but I couldn't decide how best to do that so uh here's an info dump.

**Remnants** – No one is quite sure what they are, beyond the fact that they are amazingly powerful and deeply terrifying. Leftover power from the Beginning, given form and law; the shadows of ancient gods, the many-named but greatly depleted; Death Reborn. Whatever they are, wherever they come from, they are beyond reckoning.

But there is one curious thing about them that all realities know.

If you know one of their names, and you know the right way to call them, you can bow a Remnant to your will. It will never last long, for Remnants are stronger than any mortal magic, and they will dissolve your summons if you don’t let them go when they grow bored. And it’s risky to call them, because they are always, always hungry, and if you slip up—if you don’t let them go on time—they will devour you, and possibly everyone you’ve ever cared for.

Hungry, many-named, all-powerful, many so old they don’t know or care about where they first came from. The Remnants are many. And they are multiplying.

* * *

  


**Deals** – Most deals are straight-forward. You seal a demon in a physical object, and it gives you power, whether that be raw power or patterned magic. When the time comes, you release the demon, let it collect its reward, and it leaves. Jewelry is a favored vessel for a demon, but there are those, so cocky and sure of their power, who agree to let demons live within their own flesh. This is dangerous, not only because if the demon is destroyed or the deal is broken, it will kill you, but also because no human body can hold that much raw magic without disintegrating in some way. Very few people live to tell that, because it’s almost inevitable that the body being possessed will give out when the demon leaves it. The folktale that demons steal souls persists, so autopsies are rare.

Deals keep things even. A demon may ask for something that _seems_ small; a spell component, a precious object, access to something the summoner can touch. But it never _is_ small. And every demon has the power to tempt the unwary into promising more than they can give. It’s a give-and-take that many humans understand deeply, though they rarely attribute it to demons. Demons are tricky and cruel and inhuman. The clever magician will build loopholes into their spell, so they can have the demon’s power and labor without paying the price.

Sound familiar, with what humans do to each other?

* * *

  


**Higher Science** – The English term for the study of magic and how it can be integrated with science. Since magic is so unique to each individual, it’s important for the individual to learn the basics fully of the rough “category” they fall under, so they know which avenues of study are best for them. Usually the only people who are encouraged to take Higher Science courses are those who register above a 5.5 in power. People with magic below that are allowed to take these courses, but they are not welcome. And people without magic are turned away and forced to take a class on how to _serve_ scientist-magicians, since they can’t be magicians themselves.

This is the United States system, at least. It is shadowed in other parts of the world, but it is not followed absolutely. For instance, non-magicians in most South American countries who go into science are treated with the same respect as magicians, because working among magic competently and knowledgeably when you cannot control it yourself is very impressive.

And science is not second fiddle. Science informs magic. Science surrounds it, gives it names and parameters, cuts deeper and deeper to the sources of it. Physics especially is a dangerous field, for only the toughest, most imaginative minds can handle the many illogical twists and strange paradoxes that fuel the multiple universes, and the demons of Wisdom that physics scientist-magicians are expected to commune with speak only in riddles.

* * *

  


**Magical Manifestation and Flares -**  Manifestation is when an individual’s magic first emerges, and it can be very frightening. There is no average age, because it relies so heavily on where a child is raised and who surrounds it, as well as the child’s disposition. A frightened youngster whose life is filled with fear, anger, and abuse, will manifest as early as ten, while a calm, confident child with a loving support network may not manifest until they are eighteen. Manifestations are always at what laymen refer to as “full power”. The scientific term varies depending on which schools any given pediatric doctor has attended. So when a child’s magic manifests, it can usually cause considerable damage.

Flares are when someone’s magic (usually a child, but occasionally young adults) strengthens suddenly. The triggers for flares are as diverse as people themselves, but a common one is danger—or the presence of a strong demon. It is usually very hard to tell what causes a flare, and they are completely unpredictable, but when a child has them often, that means their powers as growing. That is why, when the test first became standard, it was set that everyone over the age of thirteen must be tested, and if they have a flare, they must be tested again.

Occasionally an individual can be so frightened by a flare that the magic is blocked away. Usually only for a few days—but sometimes for years.

* * *

  


**Ven** – Even the other Remnants have no idea how old Ven is. There are few who can say they are older, and those ones tend to stay in their pocket universes, content to eat anything that stumbles in except other Remnants. Ven is unique in that it is active, despite being so old that most civilizations that knew its names are now dust. This may in part be due to the fact that it is also the main creator of new Remnants.

None of them had realized it was possible, until Ven did it. It was lonely, without knowing what loneliness was, because though it knew where each and every one of its fellows was at all times, they didn’t know where _it_ was. And Ven grew sad, because it wanted to talk to someone who would understand these strange feelings it had, feelings like curiosity and loneliness and rejection.

So it gathered much magic into itself, and split part of itself off, healing the raw edges as they came into being, and putting part of its own life force in this chunk of matter. Ven created a new Remnant, one that it purposefully magicked so that it would be free. It would not be a shadow or mindless creature that could not care for itself; it would have a mind of its own, created by the Deep Magics, and it would be Ven’s equal.

The Remnant that Ven created grew swiftly into a creature after its own heart. The child named itself Ri, and it was hungry, yes—but it, too, was curious, and Ven and Ri spent a long time simply traveling together, learning of the universes and realities that they could enter, manipulating whatever they felt like manipulating. Ven taught Ri many of the Ways, but soon Ri’s hunger grew greater than Ven’s, and it left its progenitor to wander the worlds. It met the Remnants who came before, and told them how its progenitor (who Ri viewed as the best because it had no basis for comparison) had given new life to part of its own matter.

Most of the others were shocked, horrified, that Ven would intentionally harm itself in the creation of new life, and shunned both Ven and Ri; but others listened, and grew thoughtful, and made their own children.

Ven, meanwhile, created another child, and another, and another; because it did not hurt, this separation of its mass, and it was furthermore quite happy to make more Remnants. Its children left, of course, to eat and grow and find homes; but they often returned, because Ven was their progenitor, and even Remnants can feel, though they mostly don’t understand, love.


	4. Not again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey this is actually really short but I'm worrying over it too much so uh two updates in one night for y'all

There’s another black van staking out Eddie’s apartment building. But Eddie notes it, and the van slowly circling the block, and slips past them both. There’s probably spies inside the building, if not in his apartment itself, but he has no way to deal with them. Besides letting the Remnant inform his movements.

He takes the stairs, because the elevator can too easily become a trap. There’s some toughs lingering on the fifth floor landing, but as Eddie eyes them, trying to figure out how to pass them, the Remnant murmurs, **Let me show you something.**

_Go for it,_ Eddie replies silently.

**You are a truth-finder. But there is another side to that. Take a deep breath.**

Eddie does so, and feels a spell building in his gut. Not any spell he knows, though it uses his magic. No, actually, no, it isn’t his magic. It’s the raw power, with his natural parameters flipped inside-out. This spell does not find truth. It creates a lie.

Eddie creeps up the stairs, close to the wall, letting the Remnant build its spell. Slowly, Eddie breathes out the spell, and feels it twist lazily up the stairs on a faint breeze, to wrap itself gently around the toughs. Eddie passes them, climbs the stair up the next floor, and grins as the spell fades. They saw a high teenager, not Eddie himself. This is a good magic.

**Did you feel what that was?**

_Yes. You flipped the meaning. How do I do that?_

**I will show you now. There are more sentries above, and we must pass them quickly.**

The next three floors Eddie climbs silently, paying close attention to what the Remnant is doing in his gut. He breathes the spell; the toughs don’t see him.

They reach Eddie’s floor and he builds the lie himself, slowly and carefully. This is not something humans should be able to do. But with a Remnant guiding him, he has a lie-spell ready when he steps into his apartment and finds four men waiting.

He breathes, and before they can register his presence, they are gripped with the certainty that their radios have just squawked the signal and Eddie is outside the building. They charge past him, and he lets them, carefully closing and locking the door behind them.

Then he goes and sits on his couch, and says, “Okay. We need to discuss our deal a little more.”

He feels an odd suctioning feeling on his back, and then a strange substance appears over his shoulder to form a face before him. The face has the eyes of creation and destruction, and a nightmare-grin. Eddie would be scared, except… well, he’s not. **“What is there to discuss?”** the Remnant asks.

“You promised to teach me,” Eddie reminds it. “I’m gonna need that teaching to take down Drake. And I need an in. Did you see anyone who could help us?”

The Remnant’s grin widens and its eyes squint slightly in silent approval. **“I will have to teach you bluntly. I cannot force the knowledge into your mind; it would burn you out. But I can give you the few tricks needed to intuit your potential.** **As for an in… there is one. You saw her. Glasses, hair up, worried-looking. Drake called her “Skirth”. She is revolted by his way of working. She may be of help. And the woman Maria. Her magic would be invaluable.”**

“Maria needs time,” Eddie tells the Remnant, “Being homeless does not make a human stronger. And we have to ask her.”

The Remnant snorts in contempt, quite a feat for a creature without a nose. **“She would be a fool and a coward to deny us.”**

Eddie feels his eternal rage rise. Just before he starts shouting, the Remnant quickly adds, **“But I shall not interfere with your attempts to recruit her, for I am frightening to most.”**

Ah. The Remnant is wary of Eddie’s anger. That’s strange. But Eddie’s will is strong against it, so maybe it has a reason to be afraid. Eddie nods, knowing he won’t get anything else from it. “Alright. You teach me, I recruit a team to help us get to Drake.” He thinks of something, and swallows hard. If Annie were with him, she would be an enormous help too. Her magic is strong, and she’s a black belt in four disciplines. She’s smart, too. And her boyfriend is a healer…

Stop it, Eddie. There is no way Annie and Dan would agree to help him.

But Skirth—the scientist-magician who had nodded to him. He can find her.

“What will you teach me next? Lying is useful, but it’s not exactly efficient. And what do you get out of this, besides Drake’s death?”

“ **Next, I will teach you to draw on the strength of those around you. It is one thing to rely entirely on yourself, another to use a demon’s power—but it is better to draw on your enemies. Not only will _you_ be replenished, _they_ will be weakened. And is it not easier to overcome your enemies when they are weak?”**

Well, put like that…

“ **And when Drake is dead, I will be free to go home. He has my name, and he Called me with a strong circle. I cannot leave Earth until he is dead.”**

Eddie frowns. “You broke the circle...”

“ **He still has my name.”**

“Oh. Hmm.” Eddie scratches his head. “You got a nickname? Something I can call you so people won’t know what you are? I can’t let them know you’re a Remnant.”

The Remnant freezes. Eddie blinks. Even the swirling chaos in its eyes have stilled. Then, softly, imparting a great secret; **“Ven. Call me Ven.”**

A shiver goes through Eddie. This is more than a nickname, this is a part-name. All kinds of magic can be worked with a part-name. That’s why so many humans go by nicknames, including Eddie.

But Ven is trusting him. It feels… strange, to be trusted. Oh, for sure, it will eat him when it has its revenge, but in the meantime, Eddie will tentatively enjoy being trusted.

“Okay. I’ll hunt down Skirth. It will take some time, but we can wait. Drake’s not going anywhere. He needs us—needs _you_. Maybe we can lay a trap… no.” Eddie shakes his head. “No, best to come to him. We can slip through his defenses, just us, and then we can take our revenge.”

“ **How will you get out, though?”**

“Well, you’ll be free, so I can probably—” Eddie stops, and blinks at the face hovering before him. He could’ve sworn Ven’s voice had been concerned. “Why do you care?”

Ven grins suddenly, pearly fangs bright. **“Curiosity. It is my greatest failing.”** But Eddie gets the feeling that’s only partly the truth.

“I’ll think of something. Now.” Eddie stands and the face rises with him. “I think I have a spare cellphone around here somewhere.”

He does, hidden under his mattress. It’s a Blackberry, chipped, but the battery is still good, and he’s memorized the numbers he needs now.

In an hour, he has access to a registry of every scientist-magician registered in San Francisco, an old friend has given him the master password to the SFPD computer system, and a contact in a position to search the honor rolls of every major Higher Science course in the country has agreed to look for anyone who was snatched up by the Life Foundation. Drake likes the very best, but he likes to shop local; and he’s picky. How fortunate for Eddie.

Eddie writes all his information in a notebook he hasn’t used since college, thanks his informants politely, and heads right for his laptop. With Ven watching through Eddie’s eyes, they do what Eddie is best at: researching.

There is a kind of zen in sinking deep into a project you are determined to complete. Eddie does not notice his growing hunger and thirst, nor the passing of time. His contact emails him several files, and he cross-references them with his other databases. Eventually, he has her.

Dora Skirth, married ten years, three children, a modest neighborhood. Her scientific and magical accolades are immense and numerous. The SFPD are watching her because Drake is paying them handsomely to protect his scientists. She has two PhDs and has turned down the offers of a lecture tour her alma mater has offered every year without fail since she was hired by Drake. Her magic is a subcategory of healing, the ability to scan an organism and find every abnormality present, and is registered as a nine.

And she has just recently made inquiries about Eddie’s whereabouts with the police.

Now, that could have been on Drake’s orders, but as Eddie listens to the taped phone call again, frowning, he has the niggling sensation that she has done this of her own accord. Not that Drake doesn’t know she’s done it; but she had sounded genuinely concerned. Maybe she’s scared he is going to go on a violent rampage and destroy half the city.

Hmm. Eddie leans back in his chair and rubs the tendons in the back of his left hand. How to approach her… He needs to get her to tell him Drake’s defenses without spooking her. He can’t risk actually cornering her outside her house; she’ll be frightened that he knows where she lives. He has to make it look like an accidental meeting. He’ll need her favorite grocery store, her route to and from work, any friends she visits regularly, all of her normal activity outside of work and home.

He always hates this part, stalking people just for information. But he doesn’t want details of her personal life, although it’s inevitable he’ll pick up some. He just needs a good place, away from watchers, where he can intercept her.

There’s a knock on his door, timid, and Ven’s voice says, **She’s here.**

“What?” Eddie quickly locks his computer and walks softly over to peer out the peephole. His jaw drops. It’s her, Skirth.

He opens the door, and Skirth’s nervousness ratchets up a notch. “Hello,” she whispers. “May I come in?”

Eddie glances down the hall, but he can’t see or hear anyone. So he nods and steps aside, letting her enter before closing the door and locking it firmly. He turns away and goes to the sink, while Skirth looks around the apartment. A glass of water will be nice. Now he realizes his roaring hunger, but he has to push through.

As he’s gulping his glass of water, Skirth looks to him again and fusses with her scarf. Then she blurts, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie sets the glass down and turns to face her fully. “For what?” he asks.

“For not fighting Drake.” She looks perilously close to tears for a moment, then braces herself and continues. “It was wrong, to cage you and use you. I was taken off your… project, when I told Drake he needed to give you a memory wipe and let you go. I believed in him, we were curing cancer and working on medical advancements, but this is different. Evil.” She lifts her glasses and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, but her voice doesn’t tremble when she keeps talking. “You’re not the only one he’s kidnapped. They’re all poor, homeless, overlooked, and he’s making them sign waivers they don’t understand to be his guinea pigs. They’re dying. They are all dying.”

Eddie meets Skirth’s haunted eyes and sees that there is absolutely no liar’s aura. She’s terrified. “He has something on you,” Eddie states flatly.

“My family,” she whispers. “He knows where my husband works, where my children go to school, where my parents live. He knows everything about them. I know you must think I’m cowardly for continuing to work for him, but—but I can’t—I can’t let him have them. They’re everything to me.”

Eddie nods. “You’re not a coward,” he tells her, which seems to shock her. “You just don’t have the information and resources to remove him.”

“I should’ve—”

“No. You can beat yourself up over being unable to find the freedom to fight, or you can help those who do.” Eddie smiles without humor when she stares at him. “You think I’m going to let him get away with this? I have the start of a plan. I have some kinks I need to iron out, but then I’ll have him.”

Skirth gapes at him. Then she closes her mouth, lifts her chin, and says firmly, “I will help you however I can.”

~

When Eddie goes to Mrs. Chen’s, he has a promise from Skirth for a digital copy of the duty roster for the week, and she has a promise that he will cover his tracks absolutely, to help protect her and her family.

Maria is inside the store, sweeping the floor. Mrs. Chen is dealing with a customer. Eddie slips around to the shelves at the back of the store. Maria meets him there, and out of sight of the customer, she picks up her broom and hugs Eddie tightly. He hugs her back, and when they let go of each other, Eddie asks in a low voice, “Are you okay?”

She nods and wipes her eyes, smiling in relief. “Mrs. Chen is such a sweetheart,” she whispers. “She told me I can stay here as long as I work. And when some men came asking about us, she got rid of them so fast they didn’t even know what was happening. Eddie, are _you_ okay? That demon—”

“Banished, now,” Eddie assures her, feeling the liar’s aura flare around him briefly. “Marie, I have a plan to get back at Drake. It’ll be a few days, but I can do it. Will you give testimony, when it gets that far? You don’t have to step forward in any way until it’s safe.”

Maria frowns at him. “Eddie, you are an idiot,” she says flatly. “I’m helping. What do you need?”

~

Eddie needs Ven’s guidance to strengthen the wards for truth around the shop, but soon they are like tiny fires, they are so strong. Mrs. Chen tweaks their parameters so the strength won’t affect any personal wards her customers have, and when Eddie mentions that he’s planning to get Drake for his evil, Mrs. Chen immediately says, “You’d better not try to do this on your own. I will help. My cousin is a truth-finder as well; I will give you his spells. When the fallout comes, you may hide here.” She turns to look at Maria, who has drifted closer. “ _Both_ of you.”

~

Now Eddie just needs to try one more ally.

She has no reason to help him. She has every right to turn him in. But he’s willing to risk it. He’s sure Annie won’t call the police immediately. He’s mostly sure.

But he has to be careful. He needs proof first. So he will need something… testimony, or photos. Skirth has already agreed to wear a button microphone, to record what her colleagues say in the labs. When Eddie has those files, she will destroy the microphone. But he needs something concrete. And he needs to view the labs from the inside.

It’s too much to ask of her, but Eddie asks Maria anyway. She bites her lip, and he can see the fight in her eyes. So he follows with, “Say no with no fear. I know this is beyond what you offered.”

Maria looks at him hard, then nods. “Not this time,” she whispers.

“Okay. Thank you, Maria.” Eddie squeezes her hand gently, and says nothing more about his plan.

Skirth emails him the audios, and he thanks her, then asks what would be a good night for him to break in. Her return email is swift and blunt: “You’re an idiot if you think you can get in on your own. Meet me at the bridge and I’ll get you through security.”

Eddie sighs, but he is not unduly surprised. She wants to atone. He can understand that.

Dust and cloth at his feet…

He flinches and tries to push the memory away. It won’t go.

The numb exhaustion that had come after using pure willpower to squeeze those bastards washes through his body. Oh god… oh god, if that’s what he’s capable of at zero, what is he capable of at full power?

Eddie stands suddenly and begins to pace, hugging himself tightly. He tries to make himself think of what to look for when he goes back for evidence. Images pile on him, of a crumbling corpse, of a measurement machine, of circles made of silver, gold, crystal, blood—

Ven suddenly takes over, systematically shunting the images back to their proper places in Eddie’s memory, imposing a vision of deep space instead. Eddie sighs, uncomfortable with how relieved he is. The deep dark of space, the lights of stars, the bits of debris, the twinkle of galaxies…

“Why?” he whispers.

**You were not focusing,** Ven replies, voice clipped. The last memory has been removed. The infinity fades and Eddie is standing in his apartment again. **We need to focus** **to do this properly.**

“True. Thank you.”

**...You are welcome.**

Eddie showers so that his scent won’t alert anyone, then dresses in dark clothing. He walks to the bridge, counting on Ven to keep his legs from cramping. Skirth is standing on the end connected to the Life Foundation’s side of the harbor. She sees Eddie approach and waits until he’s close to punch his shoulder, hard. He muffles a yelp and stares at her, baffled.

“You _cannot_ go in there whenever you feel like it!” Skirth snaps, scowling at him. “Come on, my car is nearby.”

Eddie follows her thoughtfully, rubbing his arm. She’s stronger than she looks. But her greatest asset in this situation is her brain. The strength is a bonus.

The plan she has is not great, but it’s simple and is better than what Eddie could come up with. They sneak in through a side door with a conveniently shorted-out camera, and Skirth leads the way to areas where dead cameras and turned-off alarms are not noticeable. Sometimes these areas are wide and bright with moonlight and dim florescent lights, and these they cross quickly, their soft-soled shoes reducing echoes. They do not speak, Eddie simply following Skirth.

They reach a heavily-locked door. Skirth opens it, and they step into Eddie’s memories.

He’s not one to break down in the face of the past, but he still feels a jolt of terror and nausea. It’s been two days. He’s not ready to be here again.

Skirth is looking at him. “Do you want me to walk with you?” she whispers.

Eddie thinks about it, and nods. His hands are trembling as he takes out his phone and pulls up the camera.

Skirth points him to things that will get Drake in trouble, and Eddie takes photos. They make their way slowly through the lab. Eddie feels Ven shifting under his skin, agitated by its own memories. They pass a circle with a yellow mass splattered on the floor, and suddenly Ven goes still. Eddie raises his phone to take a photo—

**No no no no no no no** —

Ven’s voice finally shows emotion, shocked horror, and Eddie feels it contract in all his cells, making him tense up. _What? What is it?_ Eddie asks silently.

**Dead,** Ven moans, despair joining the shock, **Dead, my little one, my baby—murdered! MURDERED!**

Eddie chokes and drops his phone as he convulses with the strength of Ven’s emotions. Skirth catches his phone and stares, bewildered and frightened, as Eddie stumbles away from the chamber, and Ven begins to wail, anguished and murderously angry. It’s ringing in Eddie’s head, he can’t even see properly, his mind full of Ven’s incoherent screams.

Eddie’s hand lands on a lock pad when he falls backwards.

The high-pitched siren snaps Ven out of its thoughtless rage and grief. It stops screaming. Eddie snatches the phone from Skirth and gasps, “Run!”

“What about you?” she asks, stepping closer, eyes huge with fear.

“We’ll be fine! Run, run! Pretend you were working late and you heard someone and hit the alarm, we’re leaving!”

Eddie turns and flees, with Ven’s emotions overwhelming his to the point where he can barely see beyond his own nose. But that little demon who gave him the floor plans, it had given him the greatest gift, and now Eddie runs down halls and across open spaces, dodging guards, not looking with his eyes but _feeling_ : the shifts in air pressure and temperature, the sounds bouncing around the echoing concrete and glass, the warmth of human bodies approaching. Eddie and Ven make for an exit, any exit.

Their path is suddenly blocked by a regiment of guards. They’re in a cinderblock hall, both ends filling with men and guns, and the path behind is blocked.

**KILL THEM!** Ven roars, and swallows Eddie whole.

It’s terrifying. Eddie has no form, though he sees through eyes that can see the currents of magic as easily as oil in water. His edges have dissolved, and now he is suspended in a form that moves without any input from him. He is just a mind, just a brain floating in darkness.

Ven kills seven men before the others flee. And then Ven punches a hole in the cinderblock wall and forces their way through.

There is no finesse to their escape. Ven simply punches, kicks, and kills their way out, with Eddie waiting for the shock to break so he can take back control. It doesn’t. Not until Ven has broken a window and leapt into the ocean.

And then Ven is swimming so fast Eddie is frightened to take back control, until Ven jumps out of the water like a dolphin and they land on the platform of a buoy, Ven sinking back into Eddie’s skin as they roll. Eddie sits up, slowly, and begins to shiver.

“What happened?” he whispers.

**My child,** Ven moans in despair, unalleviated by the killing. **That was the remains of my child. I know the look of starvation and asphyxiation in my kind. They killed it—killed it, my baby—**

Eddie curls up, hugging his knees, and rocks back and forth, Ven’s emotions washing through him and pounding at the barrier between its mind and his. He’s _seen_ human grief over dead children, but he’s never _felt_ such an emotion. Is this the same feeling? Is Ven’s hatred and grief and despair akin to a human’s? It must be, or he wouldn’t be able to name it. But it’s so much deeper than that. Eddie can hardly move, so gripped by Ven’s pain.

But slowly, he brings back control. He uses his will to shore up the wall between them, and stands, shakily. A boat is heading towards him; a light flicks on and hits him right in the face.

“Don’t move!” someone’s magically magnified voice shouts to him. He raises his hands and waits, squinting against the spotlight. “Coastguard here!”

He waits until the boat is close enough that the hum of the motor nearly drowns the sounds of the ocean, and then someone lays a board between boat and buoy so that two men in uniform can trot down it towards him. Eddie wonders uneasily why they’re here.

“You alright, son?” the elder guard asked Eddie, cautiously.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, his voice a little tight because he’s trying not to let Ven’s agony seep into his voice. “A bit stranded, but other than that, fine.”

“Good. How’d you get out here?”

Eddie hesitates. He can hardly say he was escaping from a place he’d literally broken out of… so he goes with a different truth. “I’m… I’m possessed,” he admits, though he isn’t sure why he doesn’t feel like he’s possessed. Maybe it’s just because of the deal. “The demon got spooked so it made me swim out here.” There—not the full truth, but not much to give away.

“Aren’t you Eddie Brock?” the other guard suddenly says.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, seeing no reason to lie.

“Would this possession have anything to do with the way you disappeared for two months?”

Months? _Months_? He’d noticed that all the food in his place had been spoiled, and the dust had been thick, but how can it have been months? “Ah—yeah, I—I guess so,” he stammers.

The guards nod. “Alright, Mr. Brock, we’ll take you to the shore,” says the older one. “You should really check in with the police, though, let ‘em know they can pull the missing persons.”

“I will,” Eddie lies, feeling the aura as a fire against his cold, prickling skin.

~

Eddie pulls up his hood and keeps his head down as he walks swiftly towards home. Ven is back to grieving, sometimes spiking into murderous rage before grief pulls it down again. Eddie decides to risk a cable car, because he’s very tired of walking, and he’s pretty sure he can keep Ven on a leash.

The ride goes well, though Eddie fidgets nervously unless anyone is looking right at him. Ven’s grief is rolling back, leaving it angry—and so, so hungry.

He gets off the cable car the moment he feels Ven shift its attention to the young man sitting across from Eddie.

Thankfully, it’s not far from his home. He notices the van waiting outside his building, but he doesn’t see the second one, so he risks a quick walk to the alley to find the side door.

He feels a sudden, sharp sting on his shoulder, and when he whips around, there are men approaching, three of them, holding guns. They look very pleased to have caught him.

What was that sting, though? Eddie reaches over his shoulder—

Ven suddenly goes crazy, roaring in his head, sloshing in his cells so violently that Eddie stumbles, and Eddie feels a paralytic freezing his shoulder—except Ven drives it out, and continues to babble in its strange language, so strange and terrifying. The men are getting closer, frowning now as Eddie falls to his knees and grabs his head, trying to repress Ven. Wait—wait, wait, they have to fight, they have to run, so they can continue preparing—but Ven isn’t listening.

Eddie lurches to his feet, not of his own free will, and turns sharply to look at the three men. They’re closing in. And Ven is gnashing its metaphorical teeth, all reason lost in its sudden hunger. Eddie stares blindly at the men. It’s a struggle to hold Ven so it doesn’t leap at them and tear them to pieces. He barely has a rational mind of his own, trying to contain the demon who owns his soul.

As the men raise their guns, Eddie snaps into clarity.

They can’t just stand here and be shot. They have to move.

So he turns and runs, sprinting down the alley faster than he’s ever run before. Ven howls in his head, cheated of its meal. But Eddie can’t let it kill, not yet. Please, Ven, not yet, not yet.

Eddie runs through alleys, twisting and turning, until his legs abruptly fail him, and he falls to his hands and knees, gulping air. His entire body is cramping, and he’s so hungry, and Ven is still roaring. Eddie can’t do this much longer. He can’t hold Ven back for long. His willpower is wearing thin.

Someone is approaching him. He jerks and tries to scuttle sideways, but his muscles convulse and he collapses, gasping for breath. His vision fades in and out like a radio station. A moment of clarity shows him Annie hovering over him, and Dan behind her, both looking concerned.

Ven strains against Eddie’s will. It almost breaks through when Annie reaches out to touch Eddie, but he knocks her hand away and tries to shout at her to leave, run, please, he needs to concentrate. All that comes out is a strained growl.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, fighting with Ven for control of himself. Eventually two people yank him straight and dump him on a stretcher, but he’s so lost to the world that he barely notices. All he sees now is space, an infinite darkness spangled with stars. He thinks he hears someone muttering—maybe it’s him—but he’s not sure. It’s not in any language he knows. He’s just about to start crying when, from very far away, he feels a needle pierce his arm, and a strong sedative is injected into his blood. Ven stills very suddenly; this sedative works on demons, too. It doesn’t overpower the madness brought on by the paralytic, but it sends Ven to stasis. Eddie falls asleep, too.

He awakens to a vaguely familiar voice calling his name, from very far away.

“Eddie, can you hear me? This is Dan speaking.”

“Oh,” Eddie croaks, “Hey, Dan.” His vision is clear, and what he notices first is the wards on the walls of the tube where most of him is placed. Wards for peace, for soothing, for gentling. Hospital wards.

“Welcome back, Eddie,” Dan’s voice says.

“Where am I?” Eddie asks, then, more urgently, “Where’s Anne?”

“Annie is not here right now,” Dan replies, and Eddie wonders if that means she’s okay or not. “You’re in the MRI machine. We had to give you a sedative. You’re perfectly safe, this won’t hurt a bit. Here we go.”

Eddie is just wondering when the sedative will wear off for Ven when the MRI flicks on, and he’s suddenly back at the lab.

It’s not a memory of what things look or smell like. It’s the pain. It sears through every nerve, just like when they were measuring his magic, only worse, because he is not being flooded with power that will eventually get out—he is full of Ven’s power, an intrinsic part of it that can never be taken out, burning his flesh because there are no outlets. He’s screaming—Ven is screaming—they’re both screaming, and Eddie is thrashing, trying to get out the energy but knowing it’s impossible—

The MRI shuts down and then he’s shoving out of the machine, shaking, exhausted, afraid. Ven is definitely awake now. And it’s very angry.

“Don’t touch me!” Eddie rasps, recoiling from Dan’s comforting hand. He hugs himself and tries so hard to reason with Ven.

_We’re safe—we’re safe, I promise. It was just a medical machine, it wasn’t meant to hurt us. They didn’t know. Ven, please, they didn’t know—please!_

The residual magic shuddering in his limbs, zinging in his skin, is drawn back in slowly. Eddie slumps, and covers his face with his hands. In the comforting darkness, he tells Ven softly, _They were just trying to help. They didn’t know._

**Yes.** Ven actually sounds sane now. **Yes. We… we must leave. Quickly.**

“Yes,” Eddie mutters, and stands, staggering away from Dan. “We have to leave.”

“You’re possessed, you can’t leave,” Dan protests, quickly cutting him off—but not touching him. “You have to at least talk to a psychologist-magician.”

“No, we—I have to leave. I have to get ready.” But Eddie doesn’t dare attempt to dodge around Dan. He can’t let Ven kill such a nice guy. He stares into Dan’s face, and wonders what he sees. Ven is growing stronger, and Eddie is still so weak. “Please, Dan.”

“Stay for observation, at least,” Dan urges, looking even more worried than before. “Let the sedative clear out, get some fluids in you.”

Tempting, but Drake will find them if they stay. And Eddie is so hungry he feels faint.

But he has no money, his home isn’t safe, and he simply cannot ask anyone to give him shelter. At least here, there are too many witnesses for Drake’s people to come and cart him off again.

“Where’s my phone?” Eddie asks Dan suddenly.

“I have it.” Dan reaches into his pocket and hands Eddie his phone. Eddie quickly flips through the camera roll, satisfying himself that every picture is there. He nods and goes to stuff the phone in his pocket—but he’s wearing a hospital gown. And he is decidedly chilly.

“Uh,” he says.

“If you stay we’ll give you real clothes,” Dan promises.

Eddie bites his lip and asks Ven, _Well? Should we stay?_

**They will not have fresh meat for us,** Ven growls.

_But we can ask someone to bring us burgers._

**What are… burgers?**

_Meat. Usually with condiments. But it’s meat._

Ven deliberates. Then it says, **Fine. But when you are hydrated, we must leave. We are hungry.**

_Yes, I got that._ Eddie looks to Dan again and nods. “We—I’ll stay,” he says.

Dan smiles. “Good. Come on, we’ll get you a private room, in case you flare.”

Eddie sincerely hopes no such thing happens.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness


End file.
